


Put Your Records On

by IsEmilyReal



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, Ryan's sappy as all shit, Song Fic Kinda, pretty much a love letter to a man I'm not in love with
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 22:05:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16880085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsEmilyReal/pseuds/IsEmilyReal
Summary: There were very few days Ryan took the time to properly appreciate Shane.Title taken from "Put Your Records On" by Corinne Bailey Rae





	Put Your Records On

**Author's Note:**

> Instead of working on one of the six long/chapter fics I have started, I decided to write this!  
> Enjoy!

There were very few days Ryan took the time to properly appreciate Shane. It made him feel like a bad coworker and boyfriend sometimes, like he was selfish or uncaring. Shane laughed whenever he expressed this, a light, airy chuckle paired with a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek. He’d tell him that he didn’t care, that being able to spend his days by Ryan’s side was enough for him to be happy. He’d say he felt more than appreciated that he would even worry about it. 

But there were days when it was shoved in front of him, days Ryan caught himself silently declaring his entire soul Shane’s for the taking. He’d notice the little things, like how Shane threw his head back when he laughed, or like how he’d subconsciously droop whenever they were off-camera so he could be closer to Ryan’s level. Sometimes it was a sweet note on his desk or a soft check-in when they were on location. It was the way he’d argue about ghosts and consider evidence he thought was bullshit just because it meant a lot to Ryan, and the way he’d latch on to movies and games with stories that struck a certain chord in him. 

It was the way he’d hum to himself at his desk while he worked, when the rest of the office had their headphones on and were tuning out the world. For a long time it was pieces from the new Mission Impossible soundtrack, interspersed with songs both new and old, pop songs and folk tunes and rock operas and ballads. It was the way he’d sing under his breath in his kitchen as he made Ryan breakfast, swaying ever so slightly to the music running through his head.

It was the way he’d dance through Ryan’s living room, jeans rustling as he moved to the beat in his soul. It was the way his entire body moved to an EDM track in a club when he’d had one drink too many and the way he didn’t stop once they were in the elevator of his apartment building, music left far behind them. It was the way he’d spin Ryan around and around and the joy that blossomed on his face when Ryan gave up and joined in. 

It was the way he’d groove to a playlist of his favorite songs, wind rushing through the open windows as they drove, face highlighted by the California sun. It was the way he’d tap along to the simple melodies Ryan taught himself how to play, pitching in vocals here and there, making up silly ones to fill the spaces his memory couldn’t. It was the way the songs in the mall put an extra skip in his step, his strides falling in line with the tempo, short enough so Ryan could keep up. It was the way he’d talk over the stereo in bars and restaurants, grin spread ear to ear when they played something he knew, voice falling and rising to match the music.

It was the way judgement didn’t matter to him, the way he seemed to ignore the eyes on him as they walked downtown, making Ryan laugh with poor renditions of Christmas classics. It was the way he seemed to be both goofy and artsy, somehow producing both the abomination that was the Hotdaga and beautiful photographs of everything under the sun. His favorite subject was Ryan, set against a million different backdrops, from the French Quarter to the River Thames to a SoCal sunset. Those were saved for their eyes only, printed into a photo album kept on his nightstand. (He didn’t know Ryan’s “photographs” were videos of soft moments, saved on a thumb drive for whenever Ryan wanted to put together a proposal video.)

It was the way he was easy to talk to, how he’d listen patiently to Ryan’s problems and walk him through the process of finding a solution. It was the way he made major crises seem like minor inconveniences, defusing arguments with kind words, helping everyone reach a comfortable middle. It was the way he could do the exact opposite, standing up for people he cared about in times of injustice and discrimination, brave and fierce and beautiful in his anger. It was the way he made Ryan’s walls crumble, working his way in when Ryan tried so hard to keep him out. It never worked, anyway. As a rule of thumb, with Shane was always better than without, no matter what.

It was the way he made sure Ryan knew they were partners in crime, ready to take on the world because together they were strongest. It was the way he kept Ryan level and sane, making sure he didn’t lose his shit on shoots and took care of himself off them. It was the way he could make Ryan leave work at work, make him take a deep breath at the end of the day and push forty million thoughts to tomorrow. It was the way he could make Ryan’s heart race and his chest feel tight with only a smile or a laugh, how he could steal his breath with a kiss. It was the way he enveloped Ryan in warmth as the cuddled on lazy winter mornings. It was the way he could bring a smile to Ryan’s face at the darkest times, soothe his anxiety and self-doubt, help him through the pressure of being mildly influential on the Internet.

It was the thousands of little moments that slowly piled together and eventually culminated in being wildly in love with Shane fucking Madej. He was a force of nature, as solid as the earth and as fluid as the sea. He was a cool breeze on a hot summer day and stars in the night sky, sparkling through the shadowy expanse, giving a dark world little bits of hope. He was a cosmic entity, a universal power that could damn and bless, destroy and build. He inspired awe, terror, devotion. He was anger and peace, strong and soft, a man to inspire religions and wars and art and music and literature and love. 

Ryan could write their story a hundred different ways, but none of them could ever compare to this.

And one day, way too early in the morning for them to be at the office, Shane caught him staring, eyes half-open as he let it all tumble through his head. “Thinking about something?” the man asked, one eyebrow raised as he sipped his coffee. Through all his thoughts, there was only one that could take a comprehensible shape.

“Shane Madej, I’m so in love with you.”

And the soft, beautiful warmth of his grin was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think!  
> The fourth-from-last paragraph will absolutely be in my wedding vows.   
> You can find me on Twitter at @IsEmilyReal.


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